The Heroes Go to Sonic
by kandisi
Summary: Slash/het P/S/Mo No/A. Peter, Mohinder, Noah, and Angela all go to Sonic planning how to KILL Sylar, only Sylar is already THERE eating a coney. Noah and Angela have to put up with Peter and Mohinder's PERVY jokes about screwing Sylar, having NO clue.


**Title:** The Heroes Go to Sonic  
**Author:** sapphire17  
**Pairings:** ...Oh like you don't already know. A little slash and het, but the pairings are OBVIOUS. And yes, Sylar IS in there!  
**Characters:** Peter Petrelli, Mohinder Suresh, Sylar/Gabriel Gray, Noah Bennet, Angela Petrelli  
**Rating:** Light R. I was gonna place this under a 'T/PG-13' rating, but, my GOD, Peter and Mohinder's comments in this fic are utterly perverted!  
**Summary:** Peter, Mohinder, Noah, and Angela go to Sonic to eat while discussing how to kill Sylar, but when they get there, Sylar is already _there,_ before he accidentally eats Peter's coney dog. From there, things get just a little crazy... Still, there's a couple of secrets hidden amongst all that craziness...  
**Warnings:** Stupid, complete and total CRACK, WTF-ness, Peter and Mohinder's perviness, Sylar's snarkiness, Angela's scolding, Noah's confusion and WTF reactions.  
**A/N:** ...Oh my God. I take BACK what I said in my a/n at the end of Freaky Friday. THIS IS even CRAZIER than that was! Maybe... urm, maybe noft, now that I think about it... but it comes close. This is completely, utterly, and totally retarded. I was eating Sonic, at the computer, and suddenly thought "Wonder what would happen if some heroes went to Sonic... something ridiculous, probably... uh, I'm gonna write it and find out, aren't I...?" So in ten years from now I'll probably either be dead, in a straightjacket, or banned from the internet. x_x;; So, yessums... read on, that is, if you think you can tolerate this CRACK...

**The Heroes Go to Sonic**

HONK.

HONK. HONK. HONK.

"Peter! _Stop_ honking the horn already! She _knows_, alright?!"

Peter Petrelli sighed. "Sorry Mohinder, it's just taking her so damned long to get out here, and I'm hungry!"

"Well that's a change," Mohinder Suresh responded with an eye roll, "I didn't know you had _time_ to eat. You never eat, you never sleep. _All_ you do is work and drink _loads_ of caffeine while taking No-Doz—MORE caffeine. You're on the verge of becoming an anorexic insomniac. Oh wait—you already ARE."

"Shut up, Mohinder," Peter snapped back, "Like you were so much more 'together' when you stupidly injected yourself with that faulty power-granting formula you made from Maya's adrenaline. You turned yourself into a _monster_, and you nearly KILLED me, weren't it for you-know-who. God, I don't _care_ if he saved my life, twice, and then spared my soul by finishing off my father for me. I fucking _hate_ you-know-who."

"_Finally_, something we can agree on."

"Well, at least you two boys decided to stop fighting for a change," Noah Bennet stated from the back seat of Mohinder's cab, "_Every_ time I see you two, together now, you are _always_ fighting over _something_. Often the _same_, **childish** things. Aren't you two friends?"

"Yeah," Peter and Mohinder both said in unison.

"Then why fight?"

"Because Peter's so wigged-out on cheap uppers all the time that he has _bad_ trips, and starts shit," Mohinder said.

"Hey, _fuck_ you, Mohinder!" Peter barked, shoving Mohinder in the side, "Your father would have liked me MORE than you, because I would have BELIEVED him! I couldn't even get YOU to believe ME on the subway about Issac's paintings OR the fact that a future Hiro STOPPED TIME ON THE SUBWAY. Your father probably DIED thinking that you NEVER TRULY BELIEVED HIM, and that KILLS you inside."

"You FUCKING BITCH!" Mohinder yelled, whapping Peter upside the head, thankfully unable to use his enhanced strength around Peter given Peter's current ability.

"Just TRY using your strength on me, Mohinder, and I WILL absorb it, before I beat the fucking HELL out of you!" Peter lashed out.

"NO Peter," Noah intervened, "NO. You HAVE to keep Rene's ability for now, Sylar may come back for you again, and if you don't have it, he _will_ kill you. I also have a feeling that you're the only 'one of them' who has a chance in Hell at _stopping_ Sylar for _good_. It's your _destiny_ to stop Sylar, Peter. You _will_ face him again, and _soon_."

"Well my destinies have always sucked," Peter griped, "Human bomb, virus releaser, gets one girl shot, leaves second girl trapped in future, crazy ass hungry maniac turns guy into likewise crazy ass hungry maniac, future Claire's S&M boytoy, father eradicates powers, guy gets back inconsequential power, insane brother, brother back to normal, brother murdered by hungry maniac, hungry maniac BECOMES brother—no thanks to you, Noah—, brother BECOMES hungry maniac again, hungry maniac gets nailed by guy, guy goes to Sonic with stupid Indian guy."

Noah blinked. "...Future Claire's S&M boytoy...? Peter, what the hell?"

"...Nothing, Noah. I'm having a _bad_ trip, like Mohinder said, so I don't know what I'm saying."

Mohinder then laughed. "Haha, you 'nailed' Sylar."

Peter grinned. "Yeah, 'nailed' him good, three ways to Sunday good, until he was writhing beneath me on the floor, screaming and bleeding because I nailed him so goddamned hard."

"And I 'pounded' Sylar into the floor with my strength, and he bled for me, too, as I continued to 'pound' him incessantly, while you watched, Peter, and even though you tried to get me to stop, you _secretly_ enjoyed watching me 'pound' Sylar into the floor, making him bleed for me as he opened his mouth and hissed silently in pain."

"Sick," Noah sighed, "You two are both _perverted_ sometimes, and I'm sure someone who doesn't know you two very well wouldn't expect that from _either_ of you. Mohinder, you're a scientist, and Peter, you're a paramedic. You should both be a little more _mature_ than to make jokes about 'nailing' and 'pounding' people, especially 'nailing' and 'pounding' superpowered serial killers who killed both of your fathers."

Peter shrugged. "What, did you wish you had been the one nailing Sylar?"

"I _wouldn't_ have minded—he deserves _rough_ treatment from me—I would have done the _same_ thing as you two in those situations, Peter, Mohinder, but..." Noah paused while Peter and Mohinder giggled like a couple of class-A pervs at Noah's sentence. "...No, Peter, I wouldn't have 'nailed' Sylar in the way your mind is currently processing the word, and no, Mohinder, I wouldn't have 'pounded' Sylar, either."

"Yeah right. Answer me this, Noah," Peter began, "Nailed has more than one meaning, like 'die'. Now tell me, Noah, when hear 'die', do you think 'dead', or 'dice'?"

Noah blinked again. "Well, 'dead', actually."

"And when you hear the word 'high', do think 'high up', or 'stoned'?"

Noah looked Peter in the eyes. "High up."

"Exactly," Peter continued, "Now when you hear 'nailed', do you think 'nails', or 'sex'?"

Noah sighed hopelessly. "...You already know the answer to that, Peter."

"No, I don't."

"Well I'm not answering it, then."

"Spoilsport," Mohinder taunted.

"Damn, what is taking her so LONG!" Peter complained again, honking on the cab's horn several more times.

Finally, _finally_ Angela Petrelli came out of the Petrelli Mansion, shutting and locking the double doors behind her. She was dressed _highly_ fashionable—as always—but a little _too_ overdressed just for a trip to Sonic.

The four of them were going to discuss ways of stopping Sylar for the zillionth time, and while Angela would have preferred a high class restaurant, Noah a diner, and Mohinder a home cooked meal, it had been Peter's turn to choose, and, God bless his poor little tortured soul, he just _had_ to choose Sonic.

Angela had thought Peter had done it because he was rebellious. ("He's just trying to get some attention. That poor boy can barely keep his wits together. No wonder he's lost touch with his empathy.")

Mohinder had thought Peter had been trying to get back at him. ("He KNOWS how much I HATE fast food. This must be payback for the time I put jolokia pepper on his curry, before he accidentally chugged Noah's Jack Daniel's to clear the burn and ended up liking the buzz so he drank five more glasses and ended up SO FUCKING DRUNK that he passed-out on the floor _after_ trying to do a striptease on my table while singing 'I must be emo', singing, "My parents think I'm gay just because I kissed fa guy. Okay—a _couple_ of guys, but can't a guy make-out with three, four guys and _not_ be gay? Chicks dig that sort of thing anyway".)

Noah had thought it was sad. ("It's a shame, he _can't_ cook—_God help us_ the one time he _did_ cook for us he tried to get us to eat a scorched roast, stale baked potatoes, frozen peas, and overcooked broccoli that had flies all over it, laying their eggs. Fast food must be all Peter eats, since he's _never_ had the time to _learn_ how to cook, being he's so busy trying to save everyone, when he really needs to concentrate on saving _himself_ for a change.")

And also, Angela, Mohinder, and Noah, were ALL spot-on dead-right one-hundred percent correct.

Angela straightened out her coat, and got into the backseat of the cab on the right-hand side, next to Noah.

"I'll show you where the nearest Sonic is, Moho," Peter stated.

Mohinder griped. "I told you NOT to call me 'Moho', 'Pete'!"

"...That was just _low_, Mohinder..." Peter whispered, "You know that was Nathan's nickname for me, and when I hear it now, I get sad..."

Mohinder's shoulders dropped. "...You're right. Sorry, Peter... I'm sorry..."

"It's okay..."

Mohinder started the cab, put it into drive, and drove out of the driveway.

"Okay Angela," Noah began, getting out his notebook, "What kind of drugs can we use on Sylar _this_ time? He came out of it a _little_ early on the Morphine, what's stronger than Morphine?"

"Diamorphine," Peter stated, "It's synthetic Heroin, that would fuck Sylar up good."

"His healing ability makes it hard to drug him, though," Noah replied, "We need something really, _really_ strong. Deadly strong, and in amounts that would kill an elephant."

"Well, Dimethyltryptamine is the strongest drug in existence," Peter answered, before he began to explain. "But... Sylar may like that too much. It would knock him out, but before he fell into the pit of darkness, he'd probably be seeing Beatrix Kiddo naked with a hoola hoop holding a talking lobster while it rained mashed potatoes and dead babies while a Coke was having sex with Clark Kent as they sang karaoke as Ronald McDonald voyeured them while a bottle of Jergens body lotion watched Hard Candy and gleamed at the part where it thought the girl had cut the man's nuts off."

"..."

"..."

"...Peter, what the fuck?" Mohinder asked, "You sure _you're_ not on that stuff right now?"

"...Sounds good, Peter. _Very_ good. Where can we get some of that stuff?" Noah responded.

"At the hospital, yeah, I can steal some for you," Peter replied, sounding like a typical drug dealer, "I'm lucky I didn't get caught when I stole twenty vials of Morphine from the vender the day Sylar came after me. If the staff found out, I'd be fired, or sent to jail, or worse. But, yes, I'll get the DMT to use on Sylar."

"Good," Noah responded, checking step one off of his list. "Now Peter, remember, you _have_ to keep Rene's power, at all costs. No taking Mohinder's superstrength just for kicks, not even so you can save people while at work again like you did before with it, and definitely _no_ going to the Sullivan Bros. Carnival, where you would be _very_ tempted by Samuel Sullivan's and Edgar's powers especially, not to mention all of the _other_ powers Samuel's crazy carnies have."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got you. Can't have awesome power, must have boring one," Peter sighed.

Noah smirked. "Rene's power is pretty 'awesome', Peter. You can nullify and erase memories, that's pretty damned powerful, and you'll always be _safe_—most important of all."

"I like to live dangerously."

"You're going to get yourself _killed_, Peter," Angela sighed, "I already lost Nathan, Arthur, I can't _bear_ to lose you too. You're all I have left. I'd _die_ if anything ever happened to you."

"Don't worry mom, I am _not_ going anywhere," Peter rest-assured, "And Sylar won't be 'nailing' me any time soon, I'll be 'nailing' _him _a-gain. Peter Petrelli doesn't _get_ 'nailed' by _anyone_, he's a _nailer_. Next time I get Sylar with my _hard weapon_, I am gonna 'nail' him with it until he bleeds all over the floor while he's bound to it beneath me again, writhing, struggling, begging, and _crying_ desperately as the tears _run_ down his face in unadulterated _agony_ of the pain Peter Petrelli is presenting him with."

Angela and Noah were... yeah...

Mohinder grinned like an idiot. "Always gotta 'come out on top', don't you, Peter?"

Peter sniggered. "Yeah, Mohinder. Better over than under, over and out, or should I say 'in and out'."

"Peter...!" Angela complained, "_Don't_ talk like that anymore, that's _filthy_ and immoral."

"Thank you, my dearest," Noah complimented, "I'm glad there is _one_ civilized person in this vehicle."

"What about me?" Mohinder frowned.

"You're a pervert too, Mohinder," Noah remarked.

"Goddamnit..." Mohinder muttered.

Yeah, he kinda was, so he didn't argue.

Noah had been right, though. No one in their right minds would think Peter Petrelli or Mohinder Suresh were so, urm, 'unbalanced' under the surface, but only the people who were really close to them had scratched past the exterior _of_ that surface.

And Peter and Mohinder were like a bad itch that you couldn't _help_ but scratch.

"Well, there it is! Sonic, hell _yes_," Peter happily stated, "One coney dog here I come!"

Mohinder looked at Peter as he turned into the Sonic. "What's a 'coney'...?"

"It's a chili cheese dog."

Mohinder shrugged. "Then why don't they _call_ it a 'chili cheese dog'?"

Peter rolled his dark eyes, flipping his once again elongated bangs out of his face, looking all emo, not to mention Peter was once again dressed all in black, wearing another one of those gothy black trenchcoats, that he _had_ bought at the mall, just _not_ at Dillard's or JC Penny's. Rather in the store the South Park episode made fun of when the goths were angry at the vamp kids. Not quite Spencer's, but close, though, hell, Peter shopped at Spencer's too, and not just on Halloween.

"Oh Mohinder," Peter began to respond, "You _can't_ call a 'coney' a 'chili cheese dog'. That would just be too down-to-earth, and it wouldn't be theoretically correct or notionally accurate on all grounds. Plausible, ya know? It's like politics, chili cheese dog is republican, and coney is democrat, and I'm a democrat. Hillary for 2012! Nathan was sadly a republican, so you must be too. You suck. But yeah, 'chili cheese dog' is not politically correct, coney is the standing point, square on all ends."

"...I'm a _centrist_, and... Peter, you're... _God_, just..." Mohinder wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. The word he was looking for, or words, rather, was somewhere along the lines of 'naïve', 'idealistic', 'insane', and of course, '_stupid'_.

Peter frowned when he saw the look Mohinder was giving him. Sadly, unknown to Peter, his mother and Noah were doing the _same_.

"I am NOT _stupid_, Mohinder, and I _know_ that's what you're thinking. What I meant to say was that 'coney' is more _creative_ and isn't dull and _boring_ like 'chili cheese dog'. It has _zest_. 'Coney' makes a 'chili cheese dog' at Sonic _unique_."

Mohinder sighed, a-gain. "Well why didn't you just say THAT the _first_ time around. That actually makes _sense_. That first paragraph you blurted out sounded like something a crack-addict would say."

"Fuck you, Mohinder. _Fuck_ you."

"Language!" Angela scolded, "Peter, you've _got_ to do something about that. Ever since Nathan's death—or rather—ever since you found out about it, you've been throwing random fits of anger and _cussing_ non-stop. It's not couth, and if there's one thing a Petrelli is, it's couth."

"Well I'm angry, okay?" Peter retorted as Mohinder parked the cab, "My brother is DEAD, so I'm _sorry_ if I'm not quite 'couth' enough to be a fu—I mean—to be a Petrelli anymore to you!"

"Calm down, Peter," Noah attempted, "Everything's going to be fine. We're going to stop the man responsible for your brother's death, remember?"

"Yeah, Peter's gonna 'nail' him again," Mohinder chuckled.

"And you're gonna 'pound' him," Peter sniggered.

Noah grunted. "Mohinder, don't you think that the 'Peter nailing Sylar' and 'you pounding Sylar' jokes are getting _just_ a little old now?"

"...No."

"Let's just order our food," Angela suggested.

"Okay, Mohinder," Peter began, "I want the coney combo, a medium coke, and a mocha frappachino with an _extra_ shot of caffeine. Fu—Yes, I _love_ caffeine. Oh, and some cheese tots, with lots and _lots_ of cheese, and some ketchup to go on them."

"...You eat _ketchup_ on _cheese_ tots?" Mohinder asked with a funny expression.

Peter shrugged. "Who doesn't? What about you mom, Noah?"

They eyed the menu.

"I think I'll have the bacon burger with a side of onion rings, and a small sprite," Noah replied. "How about you, Angela dear?"

"And I'll..." Angela began, "Have the chicken wrap with some mozzarella sticks and a side of ranch, and while I WISH they had white zinfandel here, especially after all this 'Peter nailing Sylar' and 'Mohinder pounding Sylar' nonsense, I think I'll too have to settle for a medium coke."

Mohinder then looked at the menu, and quickly settled on something that he was sure would be shit.

He pressed the 'order' button.

"WelcometoSonichowcanwehelpyou?" a hyperactive woman's voice said.

Mohinder blinked still more. "Um, you could... repeat that...?"

"WelcometoSonichowcanwehelpyou?"

Mohinder was... yeah...

"Urm, does anyone there speak _English?_"

"JUST ORDER!"

Peter laughed out loud. "You got _sold_, Moho. I should get on top of you and 'nail' you hard for that. Not as hard as I like to 'nail' Sylar when he's beneath me, but hard nonetheless. Maybe 'nail' some sense into you."

"Peter, please.. stop it.." Angela grunted. God, WHY did there have to be a fucking nail gun in that hospital? Better yet, WHAT was a fucking nail gun DOING in a HOSPITAL?

"It was under construction," Peter said.

"...Oh God," Angela panicked, "Peter has Matt Parkman's telepathy!"

"Peter!" Noah too panicked, "You _didn't!_"

"...What?" Peter countered, "I don't have his ability, I just looked at mom, and could tell she was wondering why a hospital would have a nail gun in it."

Noah exhaled a sigh of relief. "Thank _God_."

"Sir,areyougoingtoorder?" the speakers blasted.

"Say what?" Mohinder questioned.

"She said 'are you going to order'," Peter confirmed.

"Oh," Mohinder answered, turning to face out the window, "Yes, we'd like one coney combo, two medium cokes, a mocha frappachino, cheese tots with extra cheese, plenty of ketchup and ranch, a bacon burger, a side of onion rings, a small sprite, a chicken wrap, mozzarella sticks, a crispy chicken salad with Hidden Valley honey mustard, apple slices, and a small orange soda."

Peter smirked. "You forgot the extra shot of _caffeine_ in the mocha frappachino, idiot!"

Mohinder groaned. "...Oh, and in the frappachino, make sure you add one-no-three extra shots of caffeine."

"Mohinder..." Peter growled, "The hell?"

Mohinder smirked back at Peter. "I don't think you're tripping enough. I want to hear you talk about 'nailing' Sylar some more. You know you want to..."

"Why don't I 'nail' you right here, right now, in _front_ of mom and Noah!"

"I'd like to see you _try!_ I'll 'pound' you first like I _almost_ did when Sylar _unstrapped_ bound, helpless _you_ from the _bed! _I'm sure in that position, on the _bed_, Sylar and I _both_ could have 'nailed' and 'pounded' you, and I would _definitely_ 'pound' you before you 'nailed' me!"

"Like HELL you will!"

"BOYS!" Angela shouted, "Con-trol yourselves! And I _don't_ want to hear any-more talk about 'nailing' or 'pounding' one another, or especially _Sylar_ of all people, is that clear? I am SERIOUS. _No_ more. I _mean_ it. I won't sit here and _tolerate_ it."

"Thank you, Angela dear," Noah happily concurred.

"Yes, mom..."

"Yes, Mrs. Petrelli..."

"...Siryoufinished?" the woman's voice wailed from the speakers.

Mohinder groaned again, and looked at Peter. "What the hell did she say?"

"She said 'Sir you finished'."

Mohinder turned back to the speakers. "Yes, that's all."

"Thatwillbe fortyninefiftythree thankyouforchoosing Sonichaveaniceday merryChristmas!"

"...I'm not even gonna ask, though I faintly caught the 'merry Christmas' part," Mohinder wallowed. Then, he turned to face Peter in the passenger's side seat again. "What's the total?"

"Forty-nine fifty-three."

Everyone began to get out their money.

"It's okay everyone, I got it, remember?" Peter stated, getting out his wallet.

"NO," everyone said in unison.

"...Why not?"

_Because you're too __**poor **__going by the looks of your apartment_... Mohinder, Angela, and Noah _all_ thought together.

"Because you can't afford it," Angela replied, "Let me pay for yours, even. You need all the money you can GET from the way your apartment looked on Thanksgiving, Peter. My God, your apartment is devoid of _any_ furniture _whatsoever!_ When I first walked in, I was wondering if you slept on a blanket on the _floor!_ Or on the table, even!"

Peter pouted cutely.

"I'll pay thirty, and Noah, you pay ten, and Mohinder, you pay ten," Angela suggested, "That okay with everyone?"

"No," Peter muttered. He wasn't poor...! And-And his apartment wasn't naked! He didn't have furniture because he liked the space! Yeah!

"That's fine, Angela dear," Noah harmonized.

"Can I at least get the fucking tip?" Peter pressed.

"Language, Peter, language," Angela once again scolded.

"Fine, can I get the _freaking_ tip?"

"Yes," Angela sighed.

"Now that THAT'S settled, let's get back down to business while we wait," Noah began, "Now, how do we find Sylar? Bring him to us? That's the trick. Well, we know he came after Peter, so he may come after him again. The real trick is getting Peter close enough to wherever Sylar's at to tempt him. But how?"

"Molly Walker," Peter suggested.

"No," Mohinder argued, "We are leaving Molly _out_ of this. Last time this happened, she ended up trapped in Maury's nightmare. I don't want her on Sylar's deathlist, a-gain, too."

"She may be our _only_ choice, Mohinder," Noah responded, "She's in your town in India, so she'll be safe from Sylar there. All we have to do is give her a call, have her think about Sylar, and then, we got him. Afterwards, we lure Sylar out using Peter, and Peter will have the, what's it again?"

"DMT. And boy, when I see Sylar again, I'm sure gonna na—"

"Do _not_ say it, Peter," Angela snapped out, "Do not. Just... don't."

Mohinder sighed. "Fine, I suppose it's alright to have Molly help us _just_ this once..."

"Good," Noah said, checking off another point on his list, "Now, when Sylar faces Peter again, Peter will still posses Rene's nullification ability. He'll take a gun, shoot Sylar, and if that fails, he'll get close enough to drug him or erase his memory, rendering him helpless. Then, I'll come out, and decapitate him."

Peter didn't seem to like the idea of this. "How come I don't get to be the one who decapitates Sylar?"

Noah grunted. "Because killing Sylar is _my_ task and _my_ task alone, do you understand me Peter? _I_ get to be the one who finishes him off, _no_ arguments."

"Goddamnit."

"Peter..." Angela muttered, "What did I say...?"

Peter banged his head against the dashboard, as he cussed a million swear words and phrases in his head to calm himself down, thankful that his mother was a precognitive dreamer and not a telepath.

"Looks like our food's here," Mohinder stated with a pointing hand gesture, pointing towards a rollergirl. The rollergirl rolled over to the window, holding a whole mess of food on the red tray. She, well... wasn't wearing much, considering how cold it was in December...

Mohinder whistled, "Hot damn, I'm turning on the air conditioner."

Peter was about to speak.

"Don't say it, Peter," Angela began, "You KNOW you were GOING to say it _again_."

"Yes, you were, Peter," Noah once again agreed with Angela.

...Yeah, he was...

Poor Peter, he was... pretty messed-up right now...

Everyone handed Mohinder their money, though, Mohinder added an extra five dollars to it because the rollergirl was just like Rollergirl straight out of Boogie Nights.

That was a movie for pervs.

Mohinder thought back to the last scene of the movie, where the guy taken his dick out of his pants and talked to in the mirror.

"_I'm a star, I'm a star I'm a star I'm a star, I'm a big, bright shining __**star**__..."_

Mohinder was, well...

He was just Mohinder.

Right.

Okay, so like Peter, he had problems, too.

"That'll be forty-nine fifty-three," rollergirl said, as Mohinder handed her the money.

"Aren't you a little... chilly in that?" Mohinder inquired sweetly.

"My boss keeps me so busy entertaining the men AND women around here that I don't have time to cool down before they're done with me," she remarked. "My body's _exhausted_ from what my boss puts me through with all these men and all these women, who just _come_ and go, _come_ and go, _come, come, come_."

Mohinder's and Peter's jaws gaped a bit.

Mohinder instantly thought of a pimp and his ho and her customers, and so did Peter. Noah and Angela, on the other hand, just interpreted the statement as it was, but from the looks on Mohinder's and Peter's faces, they sadly _knew_ what the two young men were thinking _all too clearly_.

Yeah... they had some _issues_.

Mohinder took the food, and then said, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" the rollergirl said back, before she skated off.

Mohinder looked into the sacks, and began to hand everyone their food.

"Mohinder, why the _hell_ did you get a salad and apple slices?" Peter inquired, "You putting on a little weight there?"

"You _know_ I'm not, Peter," Mohinder replied, "I like _healthy_ food, NOT food that's going to make me put on twenty or thirty. Unlike you,_ I_ actually have to worry about that, because I don't run around all day so that it's like I'm at 24-Hour Fitness 24-7 speeding on a treadmill at speed 9. You could pass for a _cocaine_ addict you're so skinny."

"I consider myself well-built and in _shape_," Peter grumbled. "I have a six-pack."

"You're 'lithe', dear," Angela offered. "Lithe."

"Yeah, that's right, I'm 'lithe', not skinny. And Mohinder, you could pass for _pot_ addict because you live and eat and sometimes dress like a damned hippie."

"Shut-up, Peter," Mohinder griped, "For once, just... _shut_-up."

Mohinder had handed out all of the food to everyone, but, wait...

Something was _definitely_ missing!

"My coney...!" Peter whined, "They FORGOT my _fucking_ CONEY!"

Angela sighed again, not even bothering to complain again.

"Mohinder, page them again," Peter moaned like an infant.

Mohinder copied Angela's sigh. He pressed the button again.

"Anythingelsewecanhelpyouwith?"

"...Say what?" Mohinder asked into the speakers. Then, he turned to everyone and said, "I think I'm talking to Donald Duck."

"Just tell her they forgot the motherfucking coney," Peter complained still more.

Mohinder turned back, his head out the window again.

"Um, yes, you forgot my friend's coney dog, and he's whining about it like a _girl_."

"!"

"...Huh? God fucking damnit..."

"Mohinder," Angela said, "You're just as bad as Peter, aren't you?"

"Leave him alone, mom," Peter said in with exasperation, "It's not like hearing a few words that aren't in _your_ verbal dictionary will _kill_ you."

They waited two more minutes, before rollergirl returned, looking exhausted.

"She looks very worn out," Mohinder stated, "The boss must be _working_ her REAL hard with the _customers_."

"Yeah," Peter giggled, "She's working _hard_, and those customers are sometimes _hard_ to please like us. They're really _using her up_, but at least she makes good money GETTING _used up_ for all she's worth."

Mohinder snickered, "Yeah, Peter, some customers are really, _really_ **hard**. Like you and me."

"Exactly," Peter agreed, "But I'm harder than you are. Especially right now. Can't you see?"

"Boys...!" Angela shouted, "Excuse me? What in the _hell_ was that?"

"What?" Peter asked, sounding naïve and _completely innocent_, like he didn't know _what_ his mother was referring to. "We're just _talking_, right Moho?"

"Right, Peter."

Rollergirl came up to Mohinder's window. "Sorry we forgot your coney, we'll get you another one. We accidentally gave your coney to the man sitting over there."

Rollergirl then pointed over to the small food court, where a single man, dressed all in black like Peter—even in a likewise black trench, only with a slightly larger build—was seated.

Everyone looked.

Noah's eyes widened. "Holy fucking hell it's SYLAR!"

Peter's jaw dropped. "What the fuck? _Sylar's_ eating MY fucking coney...?! I'm gonna KILL HIM!"

"Let's get him," Mohinder stated with wrath.

"I'll just sit here, let you men do your job," Angela suggested, "Kill him, Noah, cut his head off. Make him _pay_ for my son's death."

"Will do, Angela," Noah replied as he got out of the cab, along with Mohinder and Peter.

Rollergirl was SO confused...!

"Um, is there a problem guys?" rollergirl inquired hesitantly.

"We're going to rescue my coney from psycho boy," Peter answered.

"...O-kay... but, you better hurry, because he's about to eat it..."

"NO!" Peter exclaimed, "If only I still had my ability of superspeed! Where's that knife-wielding son of bitch Edgar when you need him?"

Okay, now rollergirl was _really_ fucking confused.

The guy who had just said that—Peter—was a _loon_.

With that in mind, she skated away.

Peter, Mohinder, and Noah all began to approach Sylar, but sadly enough, Noah didn't have his gun with him... Fuck, Mohinder was the only real weapon they had! Oh... wait, that's right... with Peter here, Mohinder wouldn't be able to beat the fuck out of Sylar.

Goddamnit.

Seated at a small, square table, Sylar sat, holding Peter Petrelli's beloved coney dog, as he took a sip of his cherry limeade which was placed next to his grape slushy. The coney was in Sylar's hands, and then, he took a large bite out of it.

"NO! Sylar, you bit my fucking wiener!" Peter yelled.

Mohinder side-glanced Peter. "...Peter, you should've _known_ Sylar would bite if you tried to put your wiener anywhere _near_ his mouth. He's really into that sort of thing."

"...Yeah, that is true, Mohinder."

"God fucking damnit, you two, cut the _perversion_ and just GET HIM!" Noah yelled.

By now, Sylar was fully aware of what was going on. He set down the coney, and stood.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my three _favourite_ friends, the _insane_ scientist, the pathetic _**former**_ empath, and the _laid-off_ company man."

"_Fuck_ you, Sylar," Peter hissed, "We are gonna beat the living _hell_ out of you, you _sick fuck_."

"Yeah," Mohinder agreed with a growl, "And after we knock you out, we're gonna cut your fucking head off. Then, you _die_, and, _nobody_ will come to your funeral, because _nobody_ will mourn your death."

"Just like Hiro said," Sylar sighed, "Stupid Jap. I saved his girl and he couldn't even give me straight answer. So Peter, you still have the Haitian's power?"

"Sure do."

"Well, guess I'll just have to bust your goddamned head open and scalp you with my bare hands to get it then like I did with Brian Davis," Sylar rest-assured. "Same with you, Mohinder, and, Noah, I will scalp you too, just for kicks."

Peter lunged at Sylar, punching him in the face with his fist, using all his might. He grabbed the hem of Sylar's jacket, and socked him again with his right-hand, then socking him with his left-hand.

Mohinder joined-in, running up as he grabbed onto Sylar and viciously kneed him in the stomach.

"Yes, yes!" Noah shouted, "Get him! Make him _pay_ for he did to Nathan, to Angela, to Claire, to everyone!"

Sylar flailed back against the table, nearly toppling over, blood dripping forth from his lips and eyebrow. He turned, and jabbed his own fist into Mohinder's face, _hard_, sending him crashing to the ground, before he went after Peter. Sylar tackled him to the grass, on top of him as he pinned him to the cold, wet ground below.

"Gee, this is _familiar_, isn't it, 'Pete'? In the old days, it would have been brother versus brother. It's almost biblical," Sylar mused as he held Peter down, "Sure wish I had a nail gun. My God, I would like to _nail_ you so fucking bad right now."

Peter snarled at Sylar's crude statement, before he wrapped his legs around Sylar's waist, and flipped them over, so that he was now on top.

"You know that's _not_ the way it works between us, 'Gabe'. _I'm_ always the one beating and nailing _you_ into the ground until you bleed like the pathetic little bitch that you are, until you _howl_ in _pain_. And yet, every goddamned time, that _stupid_ grin returns to your face, like you actually _get-off_ on the pain I give you."

Sylar growled, grabbing Peter's head with his hands as he pulled him down, slamming his head into Peter's.

Peter fell to the side, before Sylar rolled them over, and began beating the smaller man senseless.

Until finally, Peter was unconscious.

"Shit!" Noah cursed, "Mohinder, get up! We've _got_ to save Peter!"

Noah ran in, but it was too late. Sylar had already stood, and, now that Peter was out, so was Rene's power with him. Sylar telekinetically sent Noah flailing across the small lot, before Mohinder sprinted up to Sylar, and slammed his fist into his back with his superstrength, hard enough to send Sylar flying through the air as well.

"Take that, you bastard!" Mohinder yelled, running forth. "I'm gonna 'pound' you!"

Sylar turned over and rose to his knees, before he sent a small jolt of electricity in Mohinder's direction, zapping him.

Mohinder howled in pain, hunching over.

Then, Sylar stood. "See you boys later. Next time, Mohinder, I'll be 'pounding' you into the ground, and tell Peter I'll be 'nailing' him _real_ soon. Gotta fly."

And with that said, Sylar rose up, and skyrocketed into the air, zooming off.

"Fuck!" Mohinder shouted, as Noah ran over, limping slightly.

"Shit!" Noah cursed, "WHY didn't I bring my gun...? Mohinder, go check on Peter."

Mohinder jogged over to Peter, who was starting to come to.

"Ugh..." Peter groaned, "Fuck, I almost... _almost_ had him, too... gonna 'nail' him _so_ hard next time I see him."

"You will Peter, don't worry. You nail, I'll pound."

Peter formed a small, crooked smile. "You'll do the 'pounding', I'll do the 'nailing', and Sylar will do the 'screaming' for us like he _always_ has in the past."

"Like the time I stuck it to him from behind in my apartment while he was bound to a chair, drugged," Mohinder replied with a goofy smirk, "God, he screamed SO loud. I told him it was going to hurt when I gave him the BIG stick, and it _did_."

Noah could only moan in frustration.

Mohinder and Peter were a lost cause, it seemed.

"...Alright you two, I'm going to cut straight to the chase," Noah began, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he bowed his head in shame, "Do you two _really_ want to fuck Sylar _that_ badly...?"

Peter and Mohinder both formed baffled and _disgusted_ expressions.

"_Sick_, Noah!" Peter said as he stood, brushing the grass off his clothes, "That is _disgusting!_ You have a _filthy_ mind."

"Yeah," Mohinder agreed, "Peter and I do NOT want to do _anything_ like that to Sylar. That's just... _gross_. Disgusting like Peter said. Peter and I just like making funny jokes, for kicks, that's all. We're not perverts. We're perfectly civilized. But, God, the way you actually _interpreted_ our jokes... Bennet, you should have your head examined."

Noah sighed, continuing to bow his head. "I give up."

Angela then walked over.

"I see you let Sylar make his grand escape, a-gain."

"Sorry, mom..." Peter withered.

"We'll kill him next time," Mohinder assured, "Onto the next plan, the one you were working on, Noah. Oh, and your turn to pick the next meeting place."

Noah smiled. "Red Lobster."

"Do they have wine?" Angela inquired, looking hopeful.

"As a matter of fact they do, my dearest," Noah grinned.

Mohinder and Peter shrank a little.

"Urm, Noah? Why have you been calling my mom 'dear' and 'dearest' all day? Are you two... you know... doing 'stuff'...? Ew..."

"Peter, that's _horrendous_, where would you get such an idea?" Noah asked, shaking his head, "Apparently you and Mohinder need to have your heads examined as well."

Yeah, they did, too.

Hell, they ALL needed to have their heads examined, since they were _all_ JUST a _**LITTLE**_ nuts.

Peter groaned, wallowing away as he sat down at the small, red table.

Mohinder's brow furrowed. "Peter, what are you doing...?"

Peter picked up the forgotten coney. "I'm eating my weiner now."

Mohinder chuckled, darkly. "But Peter, that wiener was just in Sylar's mouth? That's sloppy seconds."

"Nothing I haven't done before, Moho," Peter grinned fiendishly. "I like to savor the taste of the delicious dogs in my mouth, especially the juices that come out when you wrap your lips around them and the smooth, _creamy_ sauce."

Mohinder's grin matched Peter's.

Angela and Noah wanted to _**die**_.

Well, not _quite_, but they were getting there.

"Well, Peter, get Sylar's—I mean—'your' wiener, and let's go back to Mohinder's cab, where you can savor that coney in your 'hot, sweet mouth' all you want there. I'm hungry, and we need to finish eating our food so we can get the HELL out of here," Noah suggested, and not lightly, he might add.

"I agree," Angela added on.

Peter stood, taking Sylar's cherry limeade, too.

"Sylar would like cherries," Peter stated, noticing the lid was off the cup, "He ate it the cherry... Probably 'popped' the cherry, with his fucking mouth. Since Sylar can heal, he probably knows a _lot_ about how cherries 'pop', over and over and over again'."

"Yeah," Mohinder sniggered, a hand over his mouth. "Just like he can't get drunk in a _backdoor_ bar now, may as well order all his drinks _virgin_, huh? Just like the cherry limeade."

...Noah and Angela didn't even BOTHER saying ANYTHING.

Peter and Mohinder were _so_ going to Hell.

It made Angela sad, since that way, Peter really would never be with Nathan again...

And Noah, just, GOD... He was NOT going to think about what Peter and Mohinder had just said. It was sad to think that someone would even REALIZE that Sylar was... yeah...

And so, they all went back to the cab.

Indeed, Noah Angela were the 'Harold' to Peter and Mohinder's 'Kumar'.

Either that or they were the Fantastic Four, with Noah as Reed, Angela as Sue, Peter as Johnny, and Mohinder as Ben.

Oh, and that made Sylar Dr. Von Doom.

Well...

***

_Later that night..._

A knock on Peter's apartment door was heard.

"Coming!"

Peter walked to the door, and opened it to see none other than Mohinder Suresh standing on the other side.

"Hey Peter, some day, huh?" Mohinder giggled.

"Yeah," Peter giggled back...

...As he pulled Mohinder into the apartment, slammed the front door, and _attacked_ Mohinder's lips with his own, _slamming_ Mohinder up against the wall, _hard_.

Then...

"Make sure you two save some for me."

Peter broke away from Mohinder, and grinned, derisively, as he turned.

"You know we always do."

Sylar grinned back. "Do they suspect anything?"

Mohinder shook his head. "Not at all. They _still_ think we _all_ hate each other, and, hell, from the way Peter and I put on _fights_ in front of them, they don't even suspect anything between the two of _us!_"

"Fools," Sylar laughed, "My gaydar goes off the second you two enter a ten-foot radius of one another."

"Yeah, well my gaydar goes off just _looking_ at you, Sylar," Peter replied. "You been shopping at Hot Topic a-gain?"

Sylar frowned. "You trying to _start_ something with me again, Petrelli?"

"Maybe," Peter answered, "I am gonna 'nail' you so fucking hard tonight, and Mohinder is gonna 'pound' you."

Sylar rolled his dark eyes, brushing that too fucking long hair of his back behind his ears. WHY did Peter and Mohinder _always_ have to make those _stupid_ 'nailing' and 'pounding' jokes? Peter had _only_ 'nailed' him with a 'nail gun' _once_, and Mohinder had _only_ 'pounded' him, into the 'floor' with his _fists_, _once_.

"Fine," Sylar groaned, "But you know I _only_ go for that shit if I get to do the same to you two afterwards. I don't like bottoming."

"Oh you _know_ you _love_ it when we fuck you hard," Peter argued with a malicious grin. "You moan like a _bitch_. And, fuck, I _really_ wish I could absorb powers from one of you guys. Then, I could get rid of Rene's and we could bloodplay Sylar's body and lick it off of him."

Sylar's eyes widened, and then narrowed again. "Peter, you pretty little sick fuck."

"I'd take your healing ability and you could bloodplay be back," Peter responded.

Sylar perked up a bit. "Really?"

"Really. And then, with Mohinder's superstrength, who _knows_ the wonders he'd be capable of in bed."

"Well, then you've GOT to get Noah and Angela to let you get _rid_ of that damned power," Sylar educated, "I can't even summon a bottle of lube into my hand off the nightstand when you're around, or turn the shower knobs with my mind. I _hate_ it."

"You are _too_ dependent on the TK, Sylar," Mohinder sighed.

"...Yeah..." Sylar agreed.

It was _so_ true.

"Well, first, let's eat!" Peter happily said, waltzing off into the small kitchen. "And then we can watch 'Hard Candy' again!"

"Oh HELL no," Sylar withered, looking fear stricken and scared, "N-Not again...! Please, Peter!"

"That's it, say my name, _beg_ for me, Sylar, you know I love it," Peter said from the kitchen.

Mohinder decided it was about time _he_ took a little control back in this 'relationship', if that's even what you could call 'it'.

"Peter, we are NOT watching 'Hard Candy' a-gain! If Sylar and I watch that crazy girl convince that guy that she's cut his nuts off ONE MORE TIME, we are going to BLEED out our EYES, and with you around, Sylar CAN'T heal from it and I never could to BEGIN with. We _never_ make it through the entire movie anyway without sexing each other up first, so I suggest we just skip straight to the sexing this time."

"Thank you, Mohinder," Sylar agreed, before Mohinder pulled him in for a kiss.

"Coming you two!" Peter sang from the kitchen as he entered the small dining room.

...And Mohinder and Sylar weren't the _least_ bit shocked when Peter returned with _three __**extra long**__ coney dogs_.

"Who's up for nice, long wiener of mine in their mouth?" Peter giggled adorably.

Mohinder and Sylar looked at one another, exchanged glances, and then raised their hands as they both said...

"Me."

Peter set the coneys down on the table, and then walked over to Sylar before Sylar wrapped his arms around Peter's neck while Peter's arms wrapped around Sylar's waist as they kissed, ardently, before Peter broke away from Sylar and then did the same thing with Mohinder.

"Now, time for the coneys," Peter confirmed, "I have more in the kitchen, since mom wouldn't let me spend my fucking money today. So, you guys can eat two if you want to, and I _know_ you will Sylar. Hell, you ate my mom's whole fucking pumpkin PIE on Thanksgiving! She's a good cook, eh? But, regarding the coneys, I think I should go get you another one right now, Sylar, you'd like two wieners at once, wouldn't you? You always were the _hungry_ type... Rawr."

Peter grinned.

Sylar, unfortunately enough, _caught_ the drift, turning to look at Mohinder for little back-up, but he only smirked at Sylar.

"Yeah, Sylar. What do you say, two for one? Or, should I say, two _as_ one."

Peter beamed at Mohinder's statement, as Peter walked up to Mohinder and put a single arm around his shoulders, leaning on him as he crossed his ankles and stared at Sylar seductively, just like Mohinder was.

Sylar's fucking jaw dropped.

"...Oh **HELL NO **GODDAMN YOU PETER AND MOHINDER YOU FUCKING **PERVS!**"

Hell NO.

And _that_ was the end of it.

***

Back at the Petrelli mansion, Noah sat on the couch, sipping at his white zinfandel.

...And then, Angela Petrelli walked into the living room wearing only a black nightie complete with a pair of stockings, along with garters and a red robe.

"Hello Angela dearest," Noah smiled.

Angela sat down next to Noah, as he poured her a glass of sparkling wine.

"Do you think Peter and Mohinder suspect anything?" Angela inquired with a smile, likewise.

"Not at all," Noah remarked, "We've got them _completely_ fooled."

"You going to 'nail' and 'pound' me like Peter and Mohinder 'nailed' and 'pounded' Sylar?"

"Oh _yes_, my sweet."

"Don't think so, Noah," Angela smirked, "You know the drill, you know what I'm in to. Tonight, it's _my_ turn to 'nail' and 'pound' _you_."

Noah swallowed. Angela was a kinky bitch.

Last time this had happened, Angela had handcuffed Noah to the bed bars on his stomach, and had blindfolded him, before she got out the ice and the big...

Oh fuck.

Noah sighed hopelessly. "I'll bite."

"I hope you do bite, Noah, I hope you do."

And then, Noah and Angela kissed passionately.

***

_One week later..._

When Peter, Mohinder, Noah, and Angela went to Red Lobster, Peter and Mohinder weren't _one bit surprised_ when they saw Sylar sitting at the bar drinking a glass of pinot that was _definitely not virgin_.

Eating Peter's shrimp pasta la' alfredo.

Or, shrimp pasta topped with 'the white cream', as Peter had been calling it the entire time, making his dumb jokes while Mohinder played along, snarking about Peter's 'white cream' and his 'long, soft breadsticks' that 'needed to be a _just_ a little bit _harder_ if Peter was going to put them in his mouth' for an hour or so, occasionally tossing Sylar's name into the mix of things, making poor Angela and poor Noah want to _**die**_ all over again.

Noah hadn't forgotten his gun this time around to use on Sylar, but nevertheless, the weapon was strangely _gone_.

...Peter and Mohinder _might_ have had _something_ to do with that...

And now, at Red Lobster, it was time for some _serious_ nailing, pounding, and screaming.

Yikes.

***

**A/N:** OH MY GAWD I NEED **HELP**!!! (Again, no comment to that one, plz...). I am never, NEVER going to look at Sonic the same way AGAIN when I go there to eat from now on!

...And I'm gonna have to agree with Noah and Angela about Peter's and Mohinder's nailing/pounding jokes. I would have laughed at first, but it got a little tedious, lmfao.

Dear-Lord, I am popping out these Heroes crackfics like pills. And, yes, I really love Peter/Sylar/Mohinder (or any pairing of any of them together), and Peter/Nathan/Sylar (though... yeah, kinda hard to make that one work now, unless it's brotherverse, and one of those fics where Peter and Nathan 'welcome Sylar into the family' in a dirty way.) I also kinda ship Noah/Angela thanks to season 3, haha.

Well, when I die, which will probably be soon, since the first thing I'm going to do when I get banned from the internet is die from withdrawals, is check-out the special place in Hell that's probably reserved just for me. Unfortunately, Lucifer will probably make me read fics on the pairings *beep* and *beep* for all eternity, until I lose my mind. x_x;;

Well, plz _do_ leave a review, unless you wanna flame me. I'm not worth it, really, I'm not! *runs off and hides*

And as usual, I delete anon flames and block logged-in reviewers who flame, so they can't flame me again. :(

And a-gain, _mer-ry Christmas_, and a _hap-py New Year!_


End file.
